Maelstrom 8.27.2014 / by Walter Kitundu

At a family gathering in the northwest of Tehran I was caught in a heavy downpour of farsi. I gave up any hope of taking shelter and turned my face to the sky, already soaked to the bone. As the waters rose, we dove in collectively and were swept away in a flood of nostalgia, memories crackling bright overhead, and flurries of laughter mixed with eddies of remembrance. As the vortex swirled it surfaced childhood stories, recollections of strength and togetherness, kindnesses and hardships. Though scattered to the wind, my new family is bound up in this wonderful tempest. Four generations holding and creating memories at once. I am submerged and still I breathe - with greater strength, purpose, and understanding.